


The Princess and The Pauper

by MelodyMay



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cousin Incest, Drama & Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Kidnapping, the princess and the pauper
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-11 17:50:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7063549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodyMay/pseuds/MelodyMay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hours apart two babes were born. Both wide eyed and beautiful, yet as different as could be. One a Princess, raised with wealth and comfort, unable to accept the fate set out for her. The other a Pauper, indebted and married into the horrid Lannister family, with dreams of songs and love filling her with hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Unwanted Privilege

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be my first full fledged Fanfiction! I was sorting out some old childhood movies and came across Barbie, The Princess and The Pauper, and was immediately motivated to write this.

The Princess was born, screaming and thrashing. A tuft of brown hair upon her small head. Grey eyes blinking and searching the faces of her parents. They rung the bells of the great castle of Winterfell for days, celebrating her birth. The kingdom was filled with dancing and celebration, from lords to the poorest of the common folk. And as the kingdom rejoiced, a lone woman, deep in debt and far too close to starvation, welcomed her own child. 

Red haired and grey eyed, she was a beauty to behold. Standing out amongst the dulled and worn peasants. Her mother was thrilled with her new daughter, but soon realized she couldn’t afford her.  

While the Princess grew into a great beauty and lived a life of comfort, she was unhappy with large dresses and silver spoons. Her true passions lying with riding and sword fighting. Yet her true interests were pushed aside, given as opportunities to her three brothers. One of whom was currently the ward to a king of their neighboring kingdom and would be returning on his eight and tenth name day. 

On the other side of the kingdom the Pauper grew more beautiful with everyday. But her beauty was locked away after the death of her mother. In debt to the vicious Lady Lannister, the Pauper spent her days creating gowns and tunics to sell to the highest of nobility. But trapped in the House of Lannister, pressured into a engagement with the eldest son, she still remains hopeful. Her true desires wanting to take her on journeys with gallant knights and songs of love. 

And this is where our story begins..... 

 

The wardrobe was cluttered, and nearly suffocating. Her back was pressed against a hidden helmet and wooden shield. The sharp metal of the helmet making it near impossible to sit still. Her mother's voice called out for her, but she didn't respond. The seamstress and her maids bustled around the room setting up to fit the princess who, unknown to them, was hidden away in her wardrobe. 

Arya had fled the dining hall the second her Mother had told her of the news. Her eldest brother Robb was returning from his time at the Targaryen Palace, but he wasn't coming alone. Her mother informed her that he'd be with a Targaryen Prince, her betrothed. Arya had protested immediately to the mention of marrying a harp playing, silver haired, purple eyed prince. 

"Think of Winterfell Arya." Her mother had said. There kingdom was bankrupt. Winter was coming and there crops had failed them. The common folk were starving and their income had been swept away along with the crops. The Targaryens were farther down south, there crops remained and there lakes remained thawed. They had an abundance of food and were willing to join their kingdom with the Starks. They had two young and eligible princesses, so Arya saw no reason as to why she was the one being pushed into a marriage. 

She'd reasoned that they could ask her Mother's family the Great Tully's of Riverrun for there needed provisions. But the Tully's land had been struggling as well due to the war ravaged lands. They'd gifted most of their goods to Starks after Lysa Tully's disappearance, breaking the alliance between the Arryn's and Tully's. But it still wasn't enough. 

Arya could hear the hush fall over her room, signaling her Mother's entry. "Septa Mordane, where is Arya?" 

"She never returned to her room your Grace." Arya could practically hear the scowl on her Septas face. 

With a loud sigh, Arya could hear her mother leave the room, maids in tow. She waited a moment before checking if the coast was clear. With a quick scan of the room Arya emerged from her hiding spot. She grabbed a cloak and the sword she'd been gifted and made her way to her balcony.  As Bran had showed her, she stepped over the left side of the balcony. Vines crawled all up the castle wall, making it easy to scale the tall structure. 

Once her feet touched the ground she made a dash towards the royal stables. Once inside she saddled her horse, she lead it towards the royal smiths. Tying her horse to the post outside, Arya barged in, not bothering to knock. The door made a loud thud as she walked in. The sound startled the old Smith causing him to cease his hammering of metal. Quickly recognizing her he bows and indicates to the back with a nod of his head. Arya thanks him as she makes her way through the hot room. 

In the back room she finds her direwolf, Nymeria, lounging on the ground. She lifts her head at the sight of her and gets up from where she lays. The younger Smith notices Arya's presence as her wolf lets out a growl of appreciation at being stroked. He bows dutifully and lowers his head, "Greetings your Highness." 

Arya walks over to the Smith, punching him hard in the arm. "I'm not 'your highness' stupid." 

The young Smith lets out a laugh as he does whenever she corrects him. "You’re a Princess, daughter to the Queen. That makes you my Highness." 

Arya scowls as she plops herself down on the pile of timber near the back. She kicks off her dress shoes and pulls out a pair of worn leather riding boots hidden behind the wood she sits on. She laces them tightly onto her feet as Gendry continues to hammer away at a blade. "Doesn't mean I like it." 

"Well would you prefer 'Your _Royal_ Highness' then?" Gendry says looking over his shoulder to smirk at her scowling. Arya stands up once again, riding boots laced up. She starts towards the back door but not before grabbing Gendrys arm and pulling him alongside her. He begins to protest as they exit the Smith's, "Arya what are you doing? Ive got work to do." 

"We're going to Wintertown," she states already untying her horse. She climbs onto the saddle before continuing. "I can't go without an escort, Mother will have my head" 

He stares at her for a long second. She raises an eyebrow and he lets out a sigh. Reluctantly, Gendry pulls himself onto the back of Aryas horse. He rest his hands firmly on the saddle. With a roll of her eyes Arya brings his hands to her waist. "I'm not having you falling off. Now, no wandering hands cause I'm ticklish or else I'll push you off myself." And with a flick of the reins and a kick to its side, the horse takes off towards the castle gates. 

 

* * *

 

She was allowed a twelve minute break, no more. But those twelves minutes were the one gift she was always looking forward to. She hid in her small room. A single bed pushed into the corner and a chest with the gowns she owned. The room was completely void of any personal touches, Lady Lannister made sure of that.  

Sansa would love to spend her break behind the shop counter, sipping tea and gossiping with her fellow seamstress Margaery. But her break meant she had free time, time when Joffrey could come and see her. She was betrothed, to the heir of the Lannister fortune. Why, she did not know, for they practically owned her already. Her debt was to large and her pay was not enough. Yet Joff insisted on marrying her, but the way he gripped her hips and the bruises he left, she couldn't imagine it was for love. 

Her fingers were rough and calloused, not at all proper for a lady as her mother used to say. Cersei Lannister resented her. Giving her the more difficult and long jobs. Margaery insisted it was due to Joffrey's infatuation with her. As though Sansa hadn't tried to prevent Joffrey's come ons. 

It was her mother's fault. Sansa had never known her father. Her mother was alone with little to no job experience and a small child. Sansa had only ever known life serving the Lannisters. She hadn't understood the concept of debt, believing the Lannisters kind and welcoming to her struggling mother. She'd believed them family, not realizing there true relations until her mother died. Cersei's caresses became painful pinches, and Joffrey's games less forgiving. 

Perhaps that was the cause of her and Joffrey's relationship. He'd grown use to her, use to having complete control over her. He had nothing to gain by marrying her. She'd only give him "decently attractive children" as Cersei put it. And Sansa was always reminded how much of a "privilege" it was to marry into the Lannister family. 

Contemplating her thoughts, Sansa laid down on her bed. Closing her eyes. The sound of the doorknob jiggling made her skip a heartbeat. At the sight of Margaery's bright smile peeking around her door, she immediately relaxed. Margaery quickly scurried into the room, closing the door softly behind her. Bringing her legs to her chest, Sansa made room for Margaery to sit. 

"You better not let Cersei catch you." Sansa said with a pointed look. Margaery flipped her hair and gave her a dazzling smile. 

"Don't worry sweet girl, the Lannisters need my families silk and cotton supply. They wouldn't dare anger them," Sansa let out a laugh at the mention of the Lannisters dependency on the Tyrell they chose to ignore. "besides, Tywin's hellbent on joining our families." 

"How's your work on Joffrey then?" Sansa asks with an edge of hopefulness. Margaery gives her a sad smile and brushes her hair back in an almost motherly way. 

"He still insists on marrying you, no matter my hints and Tywins pressuring." Sansa let out a long sigh and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry Sansa, if I had my way you'd be away from Joffrey, you'd meet my brothers Loras, Garlan and Willas of course." 

"I've told you before Margaery, I've got no intentions of marriage. I want to travel, see the world and-" 

"Sing, yes I know. And I do wish for you to have that Sansa, but you mustn't deny the mere thought of marriage and love." 

"love," Sansa scoffed, "I've got no time for that nonsense. Besides, I don't seem to have the best luck with men." She said referring to her missing father and loveless engagement.

 

* * *

 

 

"Sansa," Cersei called, "Sansa darling, come here." 

Sansa set down the current gown she was mending. Placing the needles back into their box. She walked to the raised platform Cersei sat upon. She sat as though she was the Queen and not a wealthy shop owner on a fancy couch. She flicked through some notes. Her hair was done in an extravagant updo Sansa had spent an hour on. Her gown was one of the deepest of reds, embroidered with gold silken lions. She gave Sansa a sickly smile as she approached.  

"I have another task for you little dove." 

"M'lady I'm currently working on the duchesses dress, certainly Margaery-" 

"Nonsense," Cersei said with a flick of her hand, "That little vixen cand barely mend a straight stitch. Besides her Grandmother insists on her only working for six hours a day." 

"I-I understand M'lady." 

"The palace has sent several dresses to be mended and ordered a dozen more to be delivered in the next three days." Cersei says rising from her throne. She crosses the room, Sansa follows quickly. She opens a closet revealing multiple lavish gowns with silken trains and gauzy sleeves. A dozen gowns and the few she had to mend, would take her at least a week to finish. 

"My Lady, it-it's not possible. I couldn't finish all those gowns in such a short period of time, I-" 

"M'lady," Cersei corrects, reminding her of her lowborn status as she so often did. "And you must finish them and you will, or you can bet I'll diminish your pay again. I don't care if you don't sleep, if you don't speak, if you don't eat. Talk to no one if you must just get these done." 

"Now mother what on earth are you chastising Sansa for." Joffrey said descending the stairs. Sansa took a deep breath, calming her thoughts before putting on a bright smile. "Hello love." He said pulling her closer to him. He gave her a quick kiss, nipping at her lip in a not so playful manner. 

"What do you want Joff?" Cersei says with her own bright smile, just as real as Sansa's. 

"Can't a man see his betrothed? You lock her away, work her to death and keep us apart'" Sansa internally cringes at his hand rubbing the side of her hip. "and what is this nonsense of her talking to no one?" 

"Sansa, has a very important job, sent to us from the palace. She must invest all her time to meet the desired due date." Joffrey begins to protest but Sansa turns towards him and interrupts. 

"It's okay my love, I'll get done quickly so we can spend more time together." She gives him a kiss and a winning smile. He smirks as their lips meet and Sansa wishes the job would last longer than three days.


	2. The Wars To Come

Gendry's hands stayed firmly on her waist as they rode. Never sliding up or down, never touching anywhere inappropriate. Though Arya would admit, touching a Princesses waist was rather inappropriate, her mother would have a heart attack, which is why Catelyn did not know of Arya's current location. Arya's hood was pulled over her head, blocking her face from any prying eyes. They swiftly escaped the castle grounds through the servants entry that was left open throughout the day. The horse ran at a fast pace until they met up with the Kingsroad, leading them into the village of Wintertown.

The streets were alive with the hustle and bustle of the early morning. Merchants yelled out to her as she rode by with Gendry on her horse. A group of woman washed their clothes next to a well as their children scurried around there feet. A foreign man, most likely from across the narrow sea, swallowed swords and blew fire to the amazement of the crowd. The liveliness of the streets made Aryas heart swell with joy. She was the Princess of this kingdom and she would not me married off and sent away from it.

 As they entered the town square, there horse became panicked at the large crowd of people. Gendry quickly slid off the horse with the loud noise of his large build hitting the ground. He took the reins from Arya and offered her his hand for assistance. Arya jumped off the horse ignoring Gendrys hand. She wavered a bit as she met the ground, but didn't fall over. Once her balance was regained she hit Gendry's still raised hand.

"I'm jumping off a horse, not a mountain stupid." She said as she strode on past him into the street. Gendry rolled his eyes as he tugged the horse along with them. 

"You dragged me out here, now where in seven hells are you taking me?"

"No clue." Arya answered as she avoided clashing with a woman carrying a large basket.

"What do you mean- sorry ma'am- what do you mean no clue?" Gendry steered his horse away from the woman he'd bumped and turned to face a scowling Arya.

"I mean, I don't know where anything is," Arya explained as if it was the most obvious thing. "The only time I really get to leave is when you take me."

"Couldn't you've asked Robb?" Gendry questioned, "I'm sure he'd take you."

Arya turned her head, her hood blocking her face from view. "It's not the same."

Before Gendry could question Arya further, she'd already disappeared back into the moving crowd. He cursed as he realize he'd just lost the Princess. If Arya had been foolish or dimwitted, Gendry would be in a frenzy. But the Princess was smart and level headed, with the blade he'd made strapped to her waist, he felt assured she could fend for herself. He tied the horses reins to a post outside of a large Tailor. The windows were filled with lavish red and gold gowns. Gendry snorted at the thought of Arya wearing one of them. Though the Princess was indeed forced to wear gowns, her were never as large or extravagant as the rest of the court, preferring dark greys and soft silks.

He searched for a while, before he found her some time later in a darkened tavern filled with loud boisterous men. She was sat at a large table and was currently arm wrestling with some fat boy. A slimmer boy with a mop of blonde hair stood behind the fat boy, cheering him on. Two men, one with a bandana over his eye and the other with a long red beard, doubled over laughing, drinks sloshing over the edge of their cups, as Arya brought the fat boys hand down to the table. 

Arya's victory cheer was cut short at the sight of Gendry stalking over to her. Gendry made his way over as he watched Arya pat the fat boy on the shoulder and he left the table in defeat. She laughed at the red bearded man as he made a jest, her eyes never moving from Gendry's. As he reached her table he opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off before he could get a sound out.

"Gendry, sit down, Thoros and Beric were just telling me of their time in a brotherhood of sorts." The two men raised there mugs in greeting as Gendry sat down next to Arya.

* * *

 

She walked down the hall. Blue gown trailing behind her. Her ensemble of maids following in her wake. They brought up issues in the castle and gossip they believed she'd enjoy. She made no mind to their senseless chirping. Simply smiling and nodding as they brought irrelevant news to her ears. She led them to the royal wing of the castle before dismissing them with another nod and smile. As they hurried off to leave their Queen in peace, Catelyn let out a sigh of relief. She entered her chambers, locking the door and removing the crown her dearest Ned had had made for her all those years ago. She crossed to her solar, grabbing a stack of parchment on the way.

Catelyn sat at her desk, she dipped her quill in a pot of ink tapping it lightly to remove the excess ink. She left the quill hovering over parchment, waiting to collect her thoughts. A fat drop of ink ran off the quill, ruining the parchment. She placed the pen back into its jar and rolled up the ruined parchment. She placed her arms on the table and buried her face in her hands. Her hair had started greying, leaving her looking far older than thirty and seven.

Her hair had been turning grey ever since her beloved Ned had been struck down defending his dear friend Jon Arryn. War had been brewing between the Tully's and Arryn's for years, after the disappearance of her sister Lysa. There rage was about to overcome them as both houses suited up for war. Catelyn had tried to convince her brother of Jon's innocence, but he was a fool. It took the Northern troops charging into the middle of the battle to stop the fighting. There Ned had been struck down by a rogue Tully soldier. Stabbed in a back, a disgrace to her family's word and her husband. She'd never truly forgiven her brother for his foolish mistake. She'd married Ned for political gain, it resulted in loving and happy marriage with four children. Her sister had gotten the short end of the stick, forced into a loveless marriage with no children. And now she was pressuring her own daughter into a marriage.

Edmures foolish mistakes once again was ruining her family. The war he'd started, ruining his lands and leaving the North without provisions. Now they had to turn to the Great Targaryens. The rulers of the richest country in the world. Though there lands were small, they had warm weather and healthy crops. She'd sent Robb to the Crownlands in an attempt to strike up an alliance, he was now returning with a Prince seeking her only daughter's hand. When Arya was told of the news she'd protested until Catelyn was forced to yell, something she tried to avoid

. After being told she must meet the Prince, Arya had nod dutifully and quietly walked away like a proper lady. Of course the moment of silence had been destroyed by the sound of a vase being thrown against the wall and shattering. Catelyn prayed for the Targaryen Prince to be brave, gentle and strong. She prayed Arya would not cause another war with a fatal vase to the head.

A knock could be heard at the door distracting Catelyn from her thoughts. As she walked towards the door the voice of her guard, Brienne of Tarth, could be heard on the other side. 

"My Lady, I've brought Lord Baelish, who wishes to call upon you for tea in the gardens." Brienne spoke, not at all masking her distaste for the man. Many in the castle did not like the royal adviser due to his previously lowborn status. Catelyn had grown up with him, she trusted him based on the familiar bond they shared. She'd kept him closer to the court in the last couple years due to his newly earned wealth. She knew it was shallow and rude, but the Starks were tight on money and she couldn't pass up any possible opportunities.

She placed her silver crown back on her head as she readied herself. Once presentable she stepped out to find Brienne and Petyr standing several feet apart waiting for her. They both bid her a low bow as she emerged from her chambers. With a smile, they made their way through the castle of WInterfell. Once outside, Catelyn took Lord Baelish's arm a he lead her to the Glass Gardens. The greenhouse was warm compared to the brisk winds of winter seeping through the North. Brienne stood at the entrance of the garden as Lord Baelish led his Queen to a bench partially hidden behind a pale blue rose bush. As Catelyn adjusted her skirt to sit, Petyr brought up the subject at hand.

"A letter has arrived from Riverun, your Grace." Littlefinger explained pulling out a rolled parchment, sealed with the Tully coat of arms, from his breast pocket. "It appears our good Lord Edmure, has decided to march against the Freys"

Catelyn let out a frustrated sigh as she unrolled the parchment. Her brother behaved like a green boy, new to battle, not a Lord to a city once known for its abundance of goods. She quickly read the letter, brow furrowing as she finished, "Have you heard of the reason? His letter only briefly mentions he was insulted my something Lord Frey said."

"Lord Frey has married once again, and Edmure did not attend his wedding."

"By the gods, he took Lord Walder's angry letter of complaint personally didn't he?" Catelyn rubbed her temple. Being the eldest she'd witnessed her Father's duties longer than any of her siblings. Edmure had never witnessed Walder Frey's uncensored letters he'd send whenever her Father didn't attend a wedding of his. "The Freys own almost as much land along the river as we do, if Edmure insults them he'll lose one of our families most valuable allies."

"I know Cat, he is merely a boy, playing at war. He doesn't understand the games of politics. Which is why I suggest you go down to visit him before he takes things to far."

Catelyn was shaking her head immediately. "I can't leave, Robb is coming home with the Targaryen Prince and I plan on marrying him and Arya as soon as possible. The Targaryens would take it as an insult if I was not here to welcome their son."

"I understand Cat," Petyr said placing a hand on her shoulder. "But we both know Arya, wild and willful as she is, will never agree to such a proposal. Are only hope of her marrying is if she grows to care for the boy. As for the Targaryen family, they know your words 'family, duty, honour' they'll understand. Robb is a man grown and Bran is nearing the age, they'll be respectable and proper hosts to our visiting royal. Need not worry Cat, I'll watch over them in your absence."

Catelyn let out an audible sigh as she thought over Petyrs plan. Her brother was on the verge of ruining their house and running it into the dirt. She did not wish to see her family name vanish with Edmure as its legacy. The Tully alliances greatly affected any Stark alliances. If Edmure made and enemy of the Freys, the Starks to would become enemies of the Freys.

"Thank you Petyr, now I must find Arya and Bran and discuss this with them." She said rising to her feet and dusting off her gown. "Have you seen any sight of my daughter, she escaped a dress fitting this morning and we've been unable to find her." She swore the man knew more about her castle and people then any other. If anyone was to know the location of her daughter it would be him.

Lord Baelish once again took her arm and walked her towards Brienne. Right before they were within earshot of her guard he said, "No, but it wouldn't shock me if she's left the castle." Petyr gave her hand a kiss before disappearing back into the rose bushes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning on updating this regularly, but the may slow due to the beginning of exams. But don't worry! This story will meet an end. Thank you for reading!


	3. Intertwining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be slow since I'm starting exams this week, but they'll increase as time goes on. Thanks for reading!

"Those blasted Starks don't have clue what there doing," Cersei announced in outrage. She sat on her mock throne going over a letter sealed with the royal sigil, the direwolf. Sansa looked up from the second dress she was mending. The sleeve had been ripped off and the skirt had tears at the knees. Her fingers had imprints of her needle in them. "Sending me into a flurry of panic over making them all these dresses, only to raven the next day saying I have a fortnight."

Sansa couldn't help but hang her head to hide her smile. She'd already worked for six hours straight and had only mended one gown. She paused her sewing to let her aching hand rest. Margaery sat across the room mending a tunic. She gave Sansa a quick glance and a little smirk before returning to her work. Cersei continued to rant about the royal family. "Those wolf bitches are destroying Winterfell, when was the last time a shipment of myrish lace came in?"

"When you ordered it?" Sansa asked timidly. She kept her expression neutral as Cerseis face became a shade of red so bright, she looked like the Lannister sigil.

"You like this don't you," she says tongue lashing with irritation. "Out, I don't want to see your rusted head of hair until tomorrow morning. Go find a bale of hay to sleep in."

With a nod of her head and a polite curtsy Sansa turns away from Lady Lannister. She keeps her expression upset and distressed, but when Cersei can't see her she throws a wink at Margaery. Grabbing her old fur cloak, she makes her way into the busy street. She dodges pedestrians as she makes her way towards and ally. Breaking off from the street into the alley, Sansa pulls her cloak tighter around herself. She knocks on a door when a croaky voice calls out.

"What we got 'ere lads?" Sansa looks over her shoulder to see a trio of men walking down the alley. "why 'ello love, whatchu doin all alone."

Sansa straightens her back and gives the men a haughty glare. "That's my business, thank you very much."

"Aright, aright, no need to be so tense love, were not gonna 'urt ya." As the men start to advance towards her, the door bursts open.

"Sorry for the wait," a gruff voice say before teetering off. "Oy what are you shits doing here?" 

"Just sayin a polite 'ello to the lass." One of the men say nervously.

"Go say your hello in some other shit hole, or else I'll cut you like a chicken." The men quickly turn around and escape the alley at the large mas threat. Sansa flashes her saviour a quick smile before walking through the open door.

"Thanks Ser Clegane." The scarred man lets out a bark of a laugh.

"You know I'm no Ser." Sansa laughs, shaking off her cloak and hanging it on a hook.

"No, but you’re a far better Ser then those dogs."

"Aye nevermind that," He says locking the back door, "You come to sing a song little bird?"

"Why else would I come?" She says undoing her braid and letting her hair hang loose.

"Maybe for the wonderful company."

Sansa lets out her own laugh then, "Of course, who doesn't come to the Hound to spend time with it's grumpy barman."

"Enough of that," He says with a grin, "I'll let the pianist know you’re here."

Sansa had started coming to the Hound to perform ever since she was thirteen. She'd been singing in the street when Cersei had come and yelled at her and took her money away. Sandor had offered her a gig the next day. She was well known among the pub regulars, often singing and even serving. She'd been hesitant at first, with the men's bawdy comment and attempted groping. But after mentioning it to Sandor he quickly put a stop to it, throwing out the occasional drunks that made advances towards her.

As Sansa cleaned the muck off her boots she heard a nearby crash. Following the noise she found the sprawled out body of Donto's. He was a regular at the tavern, never really leaving until Sandor kicked him out. He struggled to regain his footing as he rolled around the floor.

"Ser Donto's," She said, offering her hand for help. When he didn’t respond she let out a sigh. Kneeling down she hefted his arm over her shoulder and brought him to his feet. He didn't notice her until she began to lose her grip on him.

"Oh hello *hiccup* Jonquil." He said slurring his words. She rolled her eyes. When Donto's was far into his cups he believed he was the legendary Florian the Fool and she was his lady Jonquil.

"Hello Florian," she said playing along as she normally did.

"I think it's about time you head home, you've got a joust to win tomorrow."

"That *hiccup* that I do! Fare*hiccup* farewell my lady *hiccup*!" And with a slight push Dontos made his way out the back door and into the dark alley. Sansa straightened out the skirt Donto's wrinkled. Sandor soon walked back into the back room.

"Shae's ready for you," Sandor said sticking a thumb over his shoulder "what was that bang I heard?"

"Just Donto's." She said with a wave of her hand. Sansa made her way out the back room and behind the bar. Some of the men she knew shouted out greetings as she walked past where they sat the bar. She smiled at them and continued on her way. She walked towards the large wooden piano. Shae sat on the seat hands over the keys. She was a pretty woman with a mysterious past. The small man next to her gave her a quick kiss before disappearing into the crowd. Tyrion Lannister was the only Lannister who knew of her singing excursions. They'd bonded some years ago over the same hatred they bore his family.

As Sansa jumped up and sat on the piano, Sandor bangd his fists on the table to grab the attention of the filled tavern. The bar took notice of Sansa straight away. Her bright hair shining like a flame against the dull grey and browns of the bar. Shouts of greeting met her as she smiled to the crowd. Chants of "songbird" beginning to fill the building. Shae struck up a chord and Sansa starts the Mother's Hymn. The bar is silent when she sings breaking out into applause and cheers when she finishes.

She starts the Bear and The Maiden Fair, before leaving her perch on the piano and leaving the crowd to sing themselves. She runs to the back of the bar, grabbing a stray apron. Tightly tying it around her waist, she grabs a jug of ale and makes her way back into the busy bar. She sings along with the men as she dances through the crowd. Her dress twirls around her as she spins. The men clap and holler as she dances and fills their empty cups. She times her steps with the clapping. She sings at the top of her lungs as the song nears its end.

_Then she sighed and squealed and kicked the air!_

_My bear! She sang. My bear so fair!_

_And off they went, from here to there,_

_The bear, the bear, and the maiden fair._

Sansa made a deep bow as the song ended. The smile on her face so big she swore her cheeks would ache tomorrow. It was here she was in her element. Friendly faces, music and laughter. It made the Lannister's seem even worse.

* * *

 

Arya clapped along with the rest of the crowd. Her throat hurt and her voice was hoarse from singing as loudly as she did. The maiden, the "songbird" had just finished leading a song and Arya's throat was as dry as the Dornish deserts. She hadn't gotten a good look at the Songbird only seeing her flash of red hair and pale blue dress. She'd passed Aryas table, filling there cups, but she'd spun and danced the whole time. Her hair had hung freely blocking her face.

"We shouldn't be here Arya." Gendry grunted in a low voice close to her ear. She rolled her eyes and acted like she didn't hear.

"Hey Hotpie!" She shouted to the fatboy she'd beaten in an arm wrestling competition, "you still owe me a drink!"

The Brotherhood around her laughed at the expense of the fatboy. Begrudgingly, Hotpie called the Songbird to his table, blushing furiously when she smiled at him. Arya nudge Gendry hard in the side as she waited for her drink.

"Calm down you stubborn bull." He let out a harsh laugh.

"Me stubborn?" He accused, although a ghost of a smile danced over his lips. "You’re the one insisting we stay."

"Well it's better than trying on my wedding dress." She said with another laugh. "I'm too young to get hitched."

The Brotherhood laughed at her statement, raising their cups to her in toast. Gendry stayed silent, a look of annoyance crossing his face. Arya let out a long sigh. "C'mon Gendry drink something, that pretty Songbirds coming by I'm sure you could chat her up." There was an edge to the end of her sentence that Arya wasn't sure where it came from. Gendry raised an eyebrow but before he could question her further a mug of ale was dropped down in front of her. Arya turned to thank the waitress, but her smile froze when she caught a full view of her face. Her blue eyes were filled with concern as Arya teetered back slightly.

"Ma'am, are you okay?" She asked politely her voice was melodic and sweet. Arya gripped the Songbirds arm as she calmed her thoughts. "Ma'am do you need some water?"

"Take me to the back." She croaked out. The Songbird looked over to Gendry for help. He quickly rose to stand. They each took one of Arya's arms as she swayed on her feet and hefted her to the back of the bar. Some men raised their eyebrows as she was carried past but a quick smile from the Songbird was enough to distract them.

They were led into a backroom by the songbird. Gendry gently pushed Arya back into a chair. She scowled and shook her head, snatching the mug of ale from Gendry's hand. She took a swig before turning back to examine the Songbirds face. Her hair was lighter and her eyes slightly smaller. But the Songbird had the same look as the Tully's, the same look as her mother.

"Who are you?" The Songbird raised a thin eyebrow. She looked to Gendry in question but he merely shrugged. "What's your name."

"Sansa."

"Family name?"

Sansa frowned slightly. "I'm no-not sure."

It was Arya's turn to raise an eyebrow "How are you, not sure?"

The girl shifted awkwardly where she stood, "My mother died when I was young, I just go by Snow."

 _Snow_. A bastard from Winterfell's name. Gendry was a bastard to. The supposed bastard of Robert Baratheon, the Heir to the now collapsed Baratheon house. Her Father had been good friends with the now deceased Robert, Arya suspected he'd taken Gendry in for his relations. He'd been born in the Tagaryen capital making him a Waters rather than Snow.

"Arya, what's going on." Gendry moves to kneel in front of her.

"She looks like my mother." Gendry now turns to examine Sansa, she shifts awkwardly under there gazes.

"Ma'am, if that’s all, I really must return to the tavern." She says, slowing heading towards the door.

"Do you know who my Mother is?" Arya said urgently, pausing the girls steps. She shook her head. "My Mother is Lady Catelyn Tully, Queen of Winterfell, Wife to Eddard Stark."

Sansa's eyes widen instantly, she stares blankly at Arya for a moment before sinking into a low curtsy. "You-your Highness, please forgive me I've been terribly rude addressing the Princess as-" Arya cuts her off.

"Don't bow, your forgiven, I'm not Your Highness." Sansa rises from her low bow, almost boldly she states.

"Being the Princess makes you, your Highness." Gendry lets out a guffaw, smirking at Arya. She elbows him hard in the ribs.

"I've seen a portrait of the Tully family, painted when my mother was young." She said stepping closer to the girl, "You bare an uncanny resemblance to her."

"Luck, your Highness-"

"Arya."

"Luck, Arya," she repeated slowly, "I've heard from others, my mother was no famed beauty like the Queen."

"Must be the hair," Arya said, a tone of teasing in her voice, "The colours not to liked around here, I've heard reports of some wild man, he runs about attempting to kill crows that ruin his garden, heard he's got a red beard."

Sansa smiled despite herself. "Careful now, Tormund's having a grand time in there, we can't have him chasing after the Princess."

Gendry tugged on Arya's arm lightly before whispering in her ear. "The sun has almost completely set, your mothers gonna worry." She looked out the small window to see a dark sky with thin streaks of orange barely visible. Though the sun had just set the hour was late. The Princess turned back to the Songbird.

"I must return to the castle, where can I find you?" A look of surprise and excitement crossed her face, but she quickly hid it behind a smile.

"Ask for me at the Lannister clothing Emporium in the town square."

"I'll call for you tomorrow," Arya informed her, throwing her hood over her head she stood up. "I'll bring a bundle of pastries, the cooks have been using up the last of the lemon before they go bad."

Arya stuck out her hand for Sansa to shake. The girl took her hand, she saw her head lower to kiss her knuckles, as she was supposed to. Arya quickly gave her hand a strong shake. She looked slightly taken aback, but quickly recovered with a small bow of her head.

* * *

 

"Sandor did you know who that was?" Sansa asked excitedly as the Princess walked out of the tavern.

"I don't give a damn unless she paid." He said pulling out a new tub of ale from the cellar. The bar was still lively, despite the lateness of the night. The local patrons drinking to the end of their wits. The bar was mostly filled with men, the occasional gaggle of girls coming in. But for the most part it was just her, Shae and the occasional whore. The Princess had stuck out immediately.

She'd been confused when the girl had needed to be brought to the back room, but she was completely dumbfounded throughout the rest of the conversation. The most noble of people she'd ever met were the Lannister's, and although they were probably one of the richest families in Winterfell, they were still peasants. Speaking to someone as important to the Princess was a daunting thought and yet she'd been like any other woman she might have met at the Hound.

Being told she resembled the Queen was compliment bigger then any Sansa could receive. Being told she had a pretty face was something she was accustomed to, bowing her head and giving thanks. But being told to look alarmingly similar to the Queen, by her own daughter, was a feeling she'd never experienced. It wasn't vanity or superiority, it was pride. Queen Catelyn was a loved woman amongst the common folk, Sansa had heard stories of her gifting food to the poorest of the people whenever a new shipment of goods arrived. She'd much rather look like a loved Queen then an angry and bitter daughter of a wealthy man.

"It was the Princess, by the gods, the actual Princess!" She gushed. "I spoke with the Princess!"

"The Princess can come in for all I care, but did the girl pay?" He hoisted the tub of ale over his shoulder before heading back towards the bar.

"Of course she paid, she's the Prince-"

"She's the bloody Princess I know." Sansa scowled.

"Yes the Princess," she stated, "she's returning to town tomorrow, to talk with me!"

Sandor raised an eyebrow at this. He watched as Sansa did a little twirl in her fit of happiness. Her eyes were bright and her hair shone in the firelight. Her skin was as pale as snow and free of any blemishes. She was young, with a face that no painter was worthy of capturing. Yet her dress was old, the blue faded and worn. The apron she wore was stained with hues no amount of washing could dull. He gave her a small smile

"That'll be good for you little bird, the Lannister's can't refuse her." Happy as he'd ever seen her, Sansa grabbed her jug of ale once again and disappeared into the bar. A smile on her face beaming with joy.


End file.
